


Skate Date

by mintaero



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ice Skating, M/M, and baz gets rlly salty, and i love her snowbaz, and its based off of a fanart, but rlly, but shes amazing, by snowfinchh, i think thats how its spelt, idk - Freeform, not rlly, simon is bad at ice skating, they go ice skating, to me this is domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintaero/pseuds/mintaero
Summary: “Snow,” I say, trying to contain my smile. “You look like a plane that’s about to touch down.” I reach out and attempt to lend him a hand, but he swats it away.“Sod off. Planes are balanced. I’d feel mighty fit being a plane right now.” He says shakily, taking controlled breaths.





	Skate Date

> **BAZ**

Simon Snow can’t ice skate.

I never thought I’d live to see the day where Simon Snow was tripping over his shoes after me. (Literally. Him trying to walk on ice is funnier than when he almost burnt Penelope Bunce’s whole arm when he “gave” her some of his magic.)

It’s hard not to look at him.

He’s always been the type of person to cause a scene – not because he wants it to happen, but because he’s Simon bloody Snow – and he’s succeeding in doing so. He’s trying to stable himself by holding his arms out on either side of him and spreading his legs like a fucking plane touching down.Not to mention, Simon’s face gets inexplicably flushed when he’s embarrassed. Or if it’s very cold out. (The cold helps with people, though. It’s only really Bunce, Micah, Simon and I, and another couple with a little girl skating around.)

“Snow,” I say, trying to contain my smile. “You look like a plane that’s about to touch down.” I reach out and attempt to lend him a hand, but he swats it away.

“Sod off. Planes are balanced. I’d feel mighty fit being a plane right now.” He says shakily, taking controlled breaths.

“Did you just compare yourself to an aeroplane? Crowley, that’s a new low even for you, Snow.”

He takes a wrong step while attempting to stand up straight and almost plunges face first onto the ice if I hadn’t have caught him by his waist. Gripping his sides, I guide him back to the wall.

“I can’t believe Simon fucking Snow can’t ice skate,” I mutter, and then slightly (but not much) louder, “You’ve slain dragons, but when it comes to walking on frozen water? Everybody go home.” He shoots me a glare and flips me off with one of his hands, the other still deathly attached to the siding.  

His eyes flutter shut before he speaks. “Remind me why this was a good idea?”

“It wasn’t.”

Bunce skates over to us, hand in hand with her boyfriend Micah. She was the one who suggested that we all go on a double date to an ice skating rink. I was the one who voted against it, of course, because I knew Simon didn’t know how to skate in the first place. (A boy who never knew anything other than a children’s home? Knowing how to ice skate?  _Please_.)

“C’mon Simon. You have to try harder than  _that_  if you want to learn how to ice skate.” Even while smiling Penelope Bunce can make you feel like you’ve done something horribly wrong.

“Harder?” Simon’s eyes fly open and he temporarily loses his hold on the railing. (I have to catch him again to keep him from plummeting backwards.) “I can’t try any harder than what I’m doing right now, Pen!”

She lets go of Micah’s hand and lets it rest on the side of Simon’s shoulder. It would be a condescending act if anyone else did it, but not when it’s Penelope Bunce. He looks at it like it’s a slug on a leaf. It’s quite comical.

“Well,  _try_ , Simon. There’s no harm in trying harder.”

“In this case there is!” He snaps, and something about his tone must seem harsh because immediately after he says, “Sorry. Baz and I are just going to go get some hot cocoa, yeah? Do you two want any?”

Bunce looks at me, defeated. “Sure. No milk, though. Micah and I are starting a vegan cleanse.”

Snow nods, and then Bunce and Micah are gone, skating around another endless loop of polished ice.

I turn to Simon. “We aren’t leaving this rink until you learn how to skate.”

His eyes widen as he realises I’m being serious. “No. I’ll fly away.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll only skate around the circle one more time, and then we’ll leave.” He looks gorgeous in this light; lit by overhead lamps. Curls elegantly scattered over his forehead, blinking his blue eyes away from the cold. I take both of his hands in mine and start to skate backwards, pulling him along with me.

“Baz, I don’t- I don’t like this.” He’s glancing all around, all the while not looking at where his feet are going.

“Hey,” I say, taking his chin with my thumb and index finger and forcing his eyes to settle on mine. “Look at me. Keep your eyes on mine, yeah? I won’t let you fall.”

 

> **SIMON**

He’s never talked to me like this before. I mean, the first time he kissed me (he tries to say that  _I_  kissed  _him_ ) he let down his entire guard. Or, at least, I think he did. 

I’ve decided this is the kind of Baz I like most. The one who doesn’t have to show anyone anything. This is the Baz that pushed my curls off my forehead and said that he’s loved me since we got to Watford. 

But right now? He’s looking at me like he  _needs_  me to believe him right now, so I do. 

 

> **BAZ**

He nods. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Simon Snow  _scared_  before. Sure,  _unnerved_ , but never scared.

I won’t let him fall. I won’t let him fall. I won’t- He trips over his toe picks and nearly head-butts me in the nose. I’m barely able to lift him up by his elbows before his arms are locked in place behind my back. From a bystander’s perspective, it probably looks like we’re just hugging, but I know better.

“Simon,” I gasp, “Jesus Christ,  _let go_.” Simon lets go of me and I heave a breath. He knocked the air out of me. That bastard.

“Okay,” I say when I can breathe again. “Let’s try this again.”

I skate so that I’m behind him, steadying his shaking hips with my hand on his waist. With my other hand, I entwine our right hands together and hold them slightly out for balance. Slowly, I start to push us both forward with a stroke, and then we’re just glazing over the ice. We’re at the very end of the rink, all the way on the opposite side where the hot cocoa shop  _isn’t_.

“This is good,” I hear Simon whisper. He doesn’t seem as  _unnerved_  as before. I take this chance to dig my skates into the ground and push off quicker, making us pick up speed. He sucks in a breath.

“Baz, Baz, Baz, I don’t- Baz- If I fall we’ll both die.” That makes me laugh. It’s juvenile and snorty and embarrassing, but I’m laughing. I continue to make us go faster and faster until we’re practically flying down the rink and Snow is whining my name and telling me to stop.

“Baz!  _Baz_! BAZ! BAZ, I CAN’T SKATE! I’M GOING TO TRIP!” Across the rink, I can hear Penelope and Micah chortling at this abomination.

“You’re overeating!” I cackle, staring at the side profile of him. He’s still beautiful when he’s panicked and wide-eyed. “Just fly, Simon!”

“You’re mental!” The wind is pushing his curls away from his forehead and sticking his clothes to his body. “HOW DO YOU STOP?!”

I can’t stop laughing.

Right before (and I mean  _right before_ ) we hit the siding at the end of the rink do I slow us down completely. (I want to see how much Snow’s face can scrunch up in anticipation before I pull us out of the track of disaster.)

After he’s able to take hold of the railing again, he arranges himself in a comfortable position where he can’t fall, and he can still talk with his hands.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” Simon says, glaring swords and daggers at me and holding his fingers up. (It isn’t his thumbs he’s holding up, either.)

“That  _is_  what we agreed on,” I counter, losing an uphill battle against my ability to suppress a grin. “Come on. I’ll buy you a hot cocoa and a sweet, yeah?”

He glares.

And glares.

“Crowley, Simon, I’m  _sorry_ ,” I skate until our faces are inches apart and I can smell his shirt. (It still smells like him, but there’s an ever-growing tinge of something foreign. Like posh soap or fire after it’s died down.) “But you flew, didn’t you?” I indulge myself in smiling. Only the slightest bit.

“Not consensually,” He tries to keep glaring at me, but when I nudge his thigh with my hand, his eyes go large and round. “You’re buying me two sweets, and a hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.”

I roll my eyes. Taking him quickly by the sides of his collar jacket, I press a soft, slow kiss on his lips. He exhales what little breath he has, his hands flying his up to my cheeks. I let myself indulge him this one time – this one time because this is an official date and it’s Simon bloody Snow and he deserves to be indulged.

“I’m not buying you extra marshmallows,” I breathe, and then walk off the ice, my skates nearly slipping as I step down the elevated platform. I’m only smiling because A) Simon can’t see it and B) Sometimes a smile is the only thing that tells another person that you’ve won.


End file.
